" "What do you want me to do?" The doctor thought this query gave hopeful promise. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. ” “Why did you tell me? I thought—I thought we were going to be friends.
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